“You won’t get much out of him,” said the landlady, who had just joined them. “He’s a close un, he is.”
The cook closed his eyes and smiled knowingly.
“There’s a mystery about that man,” said the landlady. “Nobody knows who he is or what he is, and he won’t tell ’em. When a man’s like that you generally know there’s something wrong—leastways I do.”
“Insulting, he is,” said the landlord.
“Ah,” said the cook, “’e won’t insult me!”
“You know something about him?” said the landlady.
“A little,” said the cook.
The landlord reached over to his wife, who bent her ear readily and dutifully towards him, and the cook distinctly caught the whispered word “’tec.”
The landlady, after a curious glance at the cook, withdrew to serve a couple of wagoners who had drawn up at the door. Conversation became general, and it was evident that the wagoners shared the sentiments of the landlord and his wife with regard to Mr. Dunn. They regarded the cook with awe, and after proffering him a pint with respectful timidity, offered to give him a lift to Holebourne.
“I’d sooner go on my own,” said the cook, with a glance at the wagons; “I want to get in the place quiet like and ’ave a look round before I do anythin’.”